


Incentive

by InnerSpectrum



Series: Sherlock December Ficlets 2017 [26]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Fluff and Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-01
Updated: 2018-01-01
Packaged: 2019-02-26 12:13:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13235514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InnerSpectrum/pseuds/InnerSpectrum
Summary: John offers Sherlock some incentive to get him to clean up





	Incentive

**Author's Note:**

> This is a part of the [Sherlock December Ficlets ](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Farchiveofourown.org%2Fcollections%2FSherlock_December_Ficlets_2017&t=NjRmODc4ZjE3OGJjNjUzYzg2NWVhY2QzMTRjNDJmOTUwMzdkOTRhMCxabzFVQjBkMA%3D%3D&b=t%3AfMPAp7-tN-90HMCNGHRDOw&p=http%3A%2F%2Fmissdaviswrites.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F167644180668%2Fsherlock-december-ficlets&m=0) challenge. Each will be its own story, though knowing me a couple may follow an arc of sorts.  
> The prompt used for this entry: Boxing Day / Cleaning up

“What the ever loving hell? Sherlock!”

Sherlock, clad in pyjamas bottoms and ratty tee shirt inside out, under a striped dressing gown, he lays stretched out on the couch with his eyes closed, his long fingers steepled under his chin. The exact position he was in when John last walked out of the room.

“Yes?” He responds, as though annoyed by the interruption.

“The sitting room? The kitchen?” John waves emphatically at the rooms, knowing Sherlock knows exactly where he stands, without looking.

“We have one of each. What about them?”

John inhales sharply and then releases the breath. He knows Sherlock knows exactly why he is there, knows the innocent act of his is irritating him.

There was shreds of wrapping paper, various empty boxes still littering the floor from Christmas day that Sherlock had said he would clean-up that evening. Well, that not being done he would take the blame for as he chose to show his appreciation for his gifts in several ways. Sherlock was on the sofa when John left this morning to spend Boxing Day with Harry and Clara and his niece. _He’s an uncle!_ He still cannot believe how happy that makes him. He has returned and Sherlock has not only has not cleaned yesterday’s mess, but also added to it with an experiment in the kitchen he woke up in the middle of the night to do. One that, from the looks of things, had gone wrong. John looks at the foam of –no, he does not want to even think about what it could be- that drips from the beaker, to the table to the floor. He is just grateful at least it’s not caustic, like the last time. At least he hopes it’s not.

Living with the genius has proven to be one heck of an adventure to say the least. While he’s never bored, the same cannot be same for his flatmate. Fastidious in his personal grooming, yet a relative slob about everything else not of interest to him when he chooses, and he chooses disinterest a lot. Like Mrs. Hudson, John has partially performed the role of housekeeper, in spite of protestations otherwise. His eyes roam the long, lean form stretched out on the sofa and sighed gently.

“You said you’d have this cleaned up by the time I returned, Sherlock.”

“Yes, I did. You haven’t left yet, you’ve just put on your coat,” Sherlock sits up, idly waving a hand in his direction.

“Sherlock that was five hours ago, I’m taking off my coat now.” He proceeded to do exactly that as he spoke, turning to go hang it in the hall next to Sherlock’s coat. John did not hear him move, damn that man and his ability to walk on cat’s paws, but felt his presence looming over him. He turned around as long fingers deftly reached up and smoothly removed his woolen scarf. Those same fingers trail down his body; find the hem of his jumper and just as smoothly pulled it over his head and he is pinned in place by gray-green eyes, pupils slowly starting to dilate as a long arm slowly stretches out, dangles the jumper from his finger tips and unapologetically lets it fall to the floor.

“Noooo.” John chuckles lowly, backing away.

“Did. You. Just. Tell. Me. No?” Sherlock drops kisses between each word ending with a deep lingering one.

“Y-yes. Yes, I did.” John clears his throat, backing up into the kitchen with a considerably amorous consulting detective in pursuit until he cornered between the sink and the stove.

“What are you doing?” John tried to keep a straight face as his hands naturally fall to Sherlock’s waist, his thumbs playing with the elastic band of the pyjamas.

“If you’ve got to ask; clearly not enough...” Sherlock’s cello vocals wash over him as he launched himself on John, wrapping both arms around him and squirmed against John’s body.

John groaned against Sherlock’s chest, taking the mad man by his hips, pulling Sherlock’s body from his own and turned so that it was Sherlock in corner. He placed a hand on each of Sherlock cheeks before kissing him deeply, their tongues clashing.

John grabbed Sherlock’s arms by the wrists and placed Sherlock’s hands on his hips, putting his own on Sherlock’s. They were pressed up against the counter; giving John the advantage to slip his knee and thigh in between Sherlock’s legs. John finds Sherlock’s nipple and bites down through the t-shirt enjoying the sound of Sherlock’s breath hitching as John quickly unbuttons his own shirt.

Sherlock moaned wantonly, rubbing his cock against John’s thigh. John dropped to his knees, pulling Sherlock’s trousers down and exposing his silk pants, starting to soak at the front. John squeezed Sherlock’s hand to calm him down before pressing closed lips to the bulge in his pants.

Sherlock’s breathing grew terribly erratic, heart fluttering so hard he thought it might burst through his chest. John let his mouth fall open and his tongue begin to loll out. John licked through the pants at Sherlock’s balls and left open-mouthed kisses along the shaft.

Sherlock groaned again and his head slammed against the upper cabinet in response. John grins, as he suddenly stands reaching around Sherlock.

“What…?” Sherlock blinks as John places a wet sponge in one hand and a can scouring powder in the other.

“You want me to finish with that?” John backs away into the sitting room, pointedly looking at Sherlock’s crotch as he licks his lips. He opens his arms to indicate the messes left in the both rooms. “Then finish this.”

“Oh you are evil.” Sherlock snarls.

“No, not evil - incentive. The faster you can be done _properly_ …” John emphasizes, because he knows whom he’s dealing with as he turns his chair around to face the kitchen while he speaks. He opens the fly of his jeans and lets them and his pants fall to his knees, before he sits and then grasps hold of his own engorged cock, points it at the detective stroking a gentle hand up and down the shaft. “The faster you can get properly _done_.”

"Definitely evil."

A couple of hours later and both men were quite done.


End file.
